Strips of Villainy
by xxlostdreamerxz
Summary: What if six year old L had a mental disorder and was sent to an asylum? Intelligent, Dark L.
1. Chapter 1

**Strips of Villainy **

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Summary: **_Martyrs are thought to have evolved from a different cloth than us simpletons. They are heroic, selfless, and kind. Martyrs are, essentially, viewed with the reverence befitting of a mild Deity. But what happened to the man? What was he really like? __**This story is a take on L. Lawliet's life before he became L. **_

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****Chapter 1: Mentally Disturbed

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Empty black eyes stared blankly forward as he squatted, knees locked tightly against his chest; his tiny hands were wrapped loosely around his legs. He didn't flinch even when the door of the closet that he was currently hiding in rattled dangerously. Lawliet's head tilted to the side as the yelling and screaming grew even louder…

"_Dear god, what is the matter with you? He's our son! You can't possibly-"_

…and sighed softly. His parents were arguing about him again; more precisely, arguing what they were going to do with him. _Mentally disturbed, they had declared. _Lawliet closed his eyes. A year ago, he had officially diagnosed with Agoraphobia, a type of a mental disorder. And though his parents had been horrified at the discovery, he had privately felt…relieved.

"_He needs to be institutionalized! The boy isn't right in the head."_

For the first time in his 5 years of living…he understood_ why_ it was that he was different. _Why_ it was that he hated going out in public and interacting with his fellow classmates. _Why_ he felt the need to have at least three escape routes planned out "just in case" for each and every situation. Lawliet chewed his lip when he heard his mother throw some pottery at her husband.

"_How dare you! Lawliet is a sweet child and you know it! Just because he's different now doesn't give you the right to judge him," she snapped. "There's nothing wrong with him that we can't help him get over." _

Lawliet shuffled over to the corner of the closet and unearthed a box of sweets that he'd hidden precisely for such an occasion. His small hands trembled as he nibbled on the edge of a single extra sugary cookie. His hair fell over his eyes, making his face look particularly dark and shadowed.

"_You don't understand. His…situation cannot be changed. You heard what the doctors said,_" he stated in exasperation. _"Lawliet will never be able to fit to live in our world." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Don't you agree it'd be more of a mercy to let him go? Let him go before he fully comprehends how different he is?" _

Lawliet bit so hard through the cookie that his teeth grazed his lip, drawing blood. Their opinion of him hurt. _It hurt so much. _And though he'd previously resolved to not cry after the first time, he couldn't help but feel his heart being torn to shreds. His thin arms tightened around his legs, as he tried yet failed to ignore the conversation going on right outside the closet.

"_No." His mother said resolutely. "He's not going to an asylum and that's final." _

He closed his eyes tiredly, shoulders slumping in relief. Lawliet_ knew_ what asylums were. He had heard tales, and even true stories, of how the staff treated the…patients. He repressed a shudder, thanking the gods that his mother wouldn't give in. And with luck, she never will.

Unfortunately, Lawliet had no idea what little weight his mother's opinions would carry in the future.

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His mother was very sick.

Lawliet leaned forward, his shadowed eyes narrowing on the woman's sweaty, dazed expression. He climbed onto the bed and squatted on the edge of the bed, balancing precarious upon the mattress and the metal bar.

"Mother?" he whispered, leaning forward so his face was only a few inches away from his mother's. The woman muttered something intelligible, before rolling on her side…nearly knocking Lawliet off his perch.

"Who are you?" she hissed, eyes bright from the fever. "Where's my son? Where's my husband?" A hint of fear entered her eyes. "Tell me..."

"I order you!"

Lawliet stared at her uncomprehending. "Mother…you're suffering from delusions," he explained, trying to make his voice warmer in hopes that the woman would recognize him. "I'm your son. Your Lawliet…"

The woman shook her head in denial. "You're lying," she said hysterically. "You're not my baby."

"Mother…" He reached out to touch her shoulder, but drew back abruptly when she flinched and tears began to form in her eyes. He dropped his hand to his side. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered. Though he knew objectively that his mother didn't mean a thing that she was saying, Lawliet couldn't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. So thus, with a heavy heart, Lawliet walked away determined to visit again once his mother overcame the fever.

Unfortunately, she never did.

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Lawliet stood beside his father as the priest murmured prayers for his long deceased mother. His tiny hands tightened into a fist to resist the urge to reach out and hold his father's hand. He_ knew_ that nothing good would come from indulging upon such a whim. So he held back, clenching his fist tighter and tighter. But even so, it didn't stop him from longing for some comfort.

Not only did he loathe being in public, it…frightened him to be the focus of attention.

He licked his dry lips discreetly, staring resolutely at the coffin a couple of feet away. _It's the least I can do._ Lawliet forcefully pushed aside a blinding wave of panic. He couldn't break down here. Not at his mother's funeral.

So he stood.

He straightened his back, refusing to fall into his usual slouch.

_For her._

And he watched, without a word…without a tear, as she was slowly carted away. They set her on a pry and ceremoniously set the coffin on fire. He watched, his dark eyes wide with emotion, as the fire sparked and flames began licking the mahogany wood.

_It was…_

Lawliet looked up and stared at his father's face. It was twisted grotesquely with grief and pain. The man released a hoarse cry as the fire rose and the coffin was enveloped in flames.

…_.it was humbling. To see those flames dance about, licking, slithering about the wood. It reminded him of a dance. A ritual of sorts. It made him feel pure…_

His chest clenched painfully.

_That should be me there._

_Tainted as I am._

So he stood there.

Stood…until there was nothing but ash left.

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Weeks later, his father dropped him off in front of a desolate gated building. The man handed him a small bag with some money and his possessions, before promptly signing him into the institution. His father had then given him an uncomfortable look as he met the man's ebony black eyes.

"Good luck, Lawliet," he said stiffly.

Lawliet stared blankly at him. He had known, logically, that this was the most probable action that his father would take, but his heart had protested. He reached down and picked up the small bag, feeling the hard texture beneath his fingers.

And he turned away without a word…

No goodbyes. No apologies. No promises.

And with his hand shaking uncontrollably, Lawliet began trudging towards the gray building, _The Westbrooke Institution_. He knew that his childhood was over. He knew, objectively, that from now on he was going to be residing in an asylum.

And…Lawliet was only six years old.

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A/N: First, I'm going to refer to L and Lawliet even though I'm aware that his real name is . And to clarify, just because Lawliet has a mental illness it does not mean he is retarded by far. He is a genius still but one who is stunted socially. All in all, this is my take on why L is so weird in the Death Note series and how he became the sugar-loving, handcuff obsessed, investigator that we all know and love. SO REVIEW PLEASE! If you guys like this story enough, I'll continue updating.


	2. Spiraling into Darkness

**Strips of Villainy **

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: **First, I just realized that I got Lawliet's mental disorder wrong. To be honest, I picked agoraphobia randomly out of my Psychology textbook. But to clarify, I DO know the symptoms of each disorder differ from individual to individual; thus, Lawliet's symptoms were bad enough for his father to send him to an asylum. And this story will not take place in the modern era (which is why mental asylums not institutions still exist). Second, Lawliet will meet Light…far far off in the future. Thanks for reading!

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**Spiraling into Darkness

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_His dark ebony eyes, crudely shadowed with despair, darted between the red-haired doctor and the abnormally tall technician. He crunched in his corner, staring at the pair with an air akin to a cornered animal. _

_"Lawliet, you need to take your medication," the doctor said sternly, stopping in his tracks when the boy's eyes darkened further with fear. "We know you've been hiding the powder inside those pens after crushing them." _

_The boy's lips thinned. "I don't need them," he retorted edgily. _

_"But you do," the doctor said evenly, as if he'd had this talk millions of times before. And he probably had. "We're certain this time that the pill will work," he stated, a concerned expression on his face. "It will cure you Lawliet," he said gently. "Don't you want to be cured?" _

_Lawliet's face tightened. "You're lying. It won't cure me." His hands tightened its grip so much that his arms were littered with tiny nail marks. "The only thing it'll do is put me in a stupor so you'll be able to 'experiment' on me….for the greater good of humankind," he spat. _

_The technician's eyes hardened, taking a step forward. "You're being paranoid, boy." _

_Lawliet squared his shoulders but held his tongue._

_"Now now," the doctor admonished gently, "You wound me with your suspicion, Lawliet." He reached into his pocket and drew out a white package, which he tossed over to the technician. "You should know by now that I have nothing but your best interest at heart." _

_Dark ebony eyes watched the technician rip the packaging aside and reveal a particularly nasty looking needle. Lawliet's breathing quickened, watching the technician move closer. His mind tried to calculate as many escape routes as possible…but came up short…as he was currently trapped in a locked padded room. _

_He felt his arms being pulled being his back and cuffed. He struggled wildly, fighting against the heavier figure that was shoving him against the ground. Lawliet's heart thumped wildly in desperation. He feigned weakness, allowing the technician a chance to adjust his body. And then he attacked, kicking out with his little legs as hard as possible. Though he did manage to land a solid kick on the technician…_

_Something hard slammed into his head, causing him to crumple like a leaf. And everything went dark. _

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"Welcome to the Westbrooke Institution."

Quillsh Wammy offered the man a polite smile and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Alfardo," he exclaimed, perching his hands evenly on his cane, exuding every inch of the gentleman that he was. "I do thank you for offering me a chance to tour and evaluate this…notable institution of mine."

The red headed doctor's expression didn't waver. "Of course, my dear Wammy," he said, shaking the man's hand. "We're honored to have you." He smiled benignly, though it didn't meet his eyes. "After all, without your generous funding…our patients wouldn't have a chance to fight and overcome their illnesses."

Wammy nodded, acknowledging the man's words, superfluous as they were. "You flatter me unfairly," he replied blandly, eyeing the extravagant décor with distaste. _Surely the could have funneled the money into something more useful than a granite fountain. _He raised his eyes and met the other man's stare evenly. "Perhaps we should proceed?" he suggested.

The other man bowed before motioning towards a set of double doors. "Of course, sir. Please follow me."

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If he had been honest with himself, Quillsh Wammy would have admitted that something rotten was going on in Westbrooke Institution. But as he was a true gentleman, he kept his judgment to himself. For the past few hours, Dr. Alfardo had shown him nothing but various superficial knickknacks at different locations within the institution. He'd seen nothing but fountains, gardens, statues, plaques, and various artifacts.

_Where were the patients? _

He stopped walking, causing the doctor to stop and glance back curiously at him. Wammy cleared his throat politely as he met Dr. Alfardo's steel gray eyes. "If I may," he said evenly. "Could I possibly tour the psychiatric division of the hospital?" He continued on ward, bequeathing the doctor with a smile. "Though I am very delighted with how you've put my funding to use so far," he lied between his teeth. "I am curious about how the entirety of the institution is structured."

The doctor stiffened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Dr. Alfardo's gaze hardened. "Some of the patients are not…right in the head," he hazarded. "It would not be safe for you to venture forth amongst them." Gathering momentum, he continued. "Besides, you would be horrified at how crass some of them are." He said, with a mocking smile. "It might be too much of a shock for your gentlemanly sensibilities to take."

Wammy chuckled lightly. "My dear doctor, I'm not afraid of slang," he stated. "Besides, I highly doubt the patients are imbalanced enough to pose any threat to my well being." He hand clenched his cane tightly. _Though you could pose a threat to them. _

"Please sir, I implore you…"

The elderly gentleman shook his head. "Fear not," he said evenly. "I will take full responsibility for my actions." Wammy met the doctor's gaze stubbornly. "If one of the patients harms me, I will not hold you or your staff responsible, sir."

Dr. Alfardo opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it with a snap. _This was Quillsh Wammy, one of the richest men in England. One cannot simply refuse his command._ With great reluctance, the redhead put on a smile. "If you insist," he said stiffly.

Wammy turned and began moving towards a pair of yellow double doors with a _Staff Only_ sign written in bright red…only to pause when he realized the doctor had yet to follow. "Are you coming, doctor?"

The man stared at him with cold, evaluating gray eyes. "Of course," he stated. "But before we proceed, I must warn you of one thing." He chewed his bottom lip, knowing without a doubt that Quillsh Wammy, the humanitarian, would not understand what it was that he and the staff were striving to accomplish. "The patients need to be restrained. They're a danger to themselves, sir." Dr. Alfardo paused, choosing his words wisely. "You have to understand, everything that we've done for the patients were done with their best interest in mind."

Wammy felt a hint of forbidding as he the other man's eyes. "Of course," he nodded.

"So prepare yourself."

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Wammy felt sick.

He saw women struggling in a straightjacket. He heard men screaming, pounding on the padded walls of the rooms. Screaming to be_ let out_ or _crying nonsensical words._ He saw some cowering in the corner, their eyes wide like a frightened animal.

"Are you sure all this is necessary?" he whispered hoarsely, after failing to clear his throat.

Dr. Alfardo nodded, his attention focused completely on the pale, shaking form of Quillsh Wammy. He_ had_ to convince their benefactor that _this_ was the only course of action; that_ this_ was the only way to ensure the patients would make a full recover. The doctor swallowed nervously. If the gentleman were to refuse his explanation, the institution would be doomed. Without funding, they would be forced to close this place down.

"The patients are a danger to themselves, sir," he answered. "The restraints are necessary to prevent them from attacking our technicians as well as to prevent them from inflicting damage upon themselves." Feeling it was necessary to emphasize his point, the doctor added, "We hadn't always allowed the use of straightjackets and chains. But about a little more than a year and a half ago, one of the patients had somehow gotten his hands on a shard of glass." Dr. Alfardo paused dramatically. "He attacked us when we can to administer his daily shot; however, before we could fully gain an upper hand, he killed himself."

Wammy's face paled further. "Indeed," he whispered, eyes darting from one patient to the next. _Dear Lord, this place is like a prison._

"Shall we proceed, sir?" the doctor asked. "Or would you prefer to end the tour early?"

The older gentleman swallowed and offered a pained smile.

"Proceed, doctor."

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"Pray tell, what in the world is a _child _doing here_?!"_

Dr. Alfardo cleared his throat, staring emotionlessly at the small figure crouched in the corner. "The boy's name is Lawliet," he started. "He was sent here about two years ago by his father who had disowned him on the grounds that he was mentally unstable."

Wammy's jaw dropped open. "Unstable? But he's just a child!"

"Yes. But you know how parents are like these days," he explained patiently, his gray eyes softening slightly. "They want children who can fit into the cookie-cutter mold of a perfect family. They want children that are 'normal'…not peculiar like Lawliet there."

"How is he unusual?"

The doctor walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a vanilla folder. "From what we've uncovered, Lawliet has a strange case of Agoraphobia which manifests itself in bouts of paranoia, depression, social isolation, and fear."

Wammy's eyes hardened. "Agoraphobia is not that terrible," he said stiffly. "He should not have been institutionalized in the first place."

The doctor shrugged. "Perhaps, but it is far kinder a fate than to dump him at the local orphanage. Goodness knows what those are like at our day and age. At least here, he gets three square meals a day."

"I understand." And he did. With the current economy in a slump, people didn't care a rat's ass about others…especially orphaned children. He had seen, first hand, some orphans being beaten and starved. He had tried to help. But considering the fact that it was not_ his_ orphanage, his words and patronage had little effect on how the administration worked.

Wammy stared at the small, trembling figure in the corner and felt his heart twinge in remorse. It was sad….what the child had been put through. Steeling himself, he turned and met Dr. Alfardo's eyes, "Let me talk to him."

The doctor looked taken aback. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir," he said sternly. "It is not safe."

"He is a child. Not a felon."

"He is unstable," the doctor repeated. "I'm afraid that I cannot in good conscience allow you to enter that room."

Wammy pulled himself up to his full height. "Then overcome your conscience, good sir," he demanded. "I_ will_ speak to that child. Or else, in the coming weeks, you might unfortunately find your budget suddenly cut," he stated reasonably.

Dr. Alfardo's face flamed with both anger and frustration, before turning away. "Fine," he snapped, his polite mask vanishing in a flash. "We'll give you an hour alone with that child," he said coldly. "But let me warn you, if you are harmed in any way, shape, or form…I will not be held responsible."

Wammy nodded and smiled. "I understand." With that said and done, he walked over and undid the locks and entered the room….

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TBC: Next chapter, Wammy meets Lawliet.

REVIEW PLEASE!!


	3. Traveling Tales

**Strips of Villainy**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Death Note.

**Note: **I'm sorry this chapter is sorta short, but I promise to update the moment I return from my trip. Anyways, I really hope you guys have liked my interpretation of the story so far. REVIEW please!

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**Chapter 3: Traveling Tales**

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Excuse me, sir.

…

Sir?

_Sir! _

Wammy jerked awake, flinching away from the person who shaking his shoulder. Dark black eyes blinked as the elderly man adjusted his spectacles before frowning. "What is it, Roger?" he asked, looking up at his frowning friend. _The great prude,_ he thought fondly, _he was always so concerned with decorum. _

"Don't call me that, sir," Roger snapped, sounding distintively annoyed. _I'm your servant, not your equal. Use my last name like you're supposed to! _The man straightened his shoulders as he sought to regain his professional demeanor. "Lawliet, the boy you met at the institution, will be visiting in a couple of hours."

Wammy's cracked a smile. "Really?" he said, sounding as giddy as a child. "He's coming today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is everything ready?" Wammy asked, his smile growing larger. "Did you set up his room and purchase all the toys I requested?" The white haired man straightened his back, feeling his muscles tense in protest. _Ah, that's what I get for falling asleep in a chair, _he thought in amusement.

"Of course, sir." Roger paused, before adding. "And it's Ruvie…my last name, in case you forgot."

Wammy's eyes twinkled in amusement. "I didn't forget, Roger."

The other man's eye twitched.

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_The child was sitting in a strange hunched position. Dark messy black hair seemed to glow in the dim light, making the boy look like some ethereal creature of the night. Cold. Inhuman. And yet, strangely vulnerable. Wammy stood there, lingering at the door, as he pondered what to do next. His decision was made when the boy raised his head and sad ebony black eyes met his own. _

"_Hello there," he greeted gently, moving slowly yet purposely across the room. He stopped about a couple of feet from the boy and plopped down on the ground, setting his cane down next to him. "My name is Quillsh Wammy." _

_The boy stared at him with those ancient eyes. Evaluating him. Judging him. There was a tense moment of silence, as the boy chewed his thumb thoughtfully. _

"_I'm Lawliet," he offered softly. _

_Wammy's face softened. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Lawliet," he said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand before freezing mid-gesture. The boy had backed himself up against the wall, glaring viciously at the offered hand like as if it was a dangerous snake._

"_Don't touch me." _

_The elderly man allowed his hand to fall into his lap, feeling slightly hurt. "I'm sorry," he said uncomfortably. "I wasn't aware that you didn't like physical contact." Wammy's mind whirled in discontent, as he tried to figure out the puzzling child before him. "If it'll make you feel any better, I swear that I will stay at least a good foot away from you at all times." _

_Lawliet eyed the man suspiciously. _

"_I just wanted to talk to you," Wammy said quietly, meeting the boy's dark gaze. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel uncomfortable or threatened." And truly, it wasn't. He had wanted to speak with the child in order to ascertain whether or not the child was comfortable here. There was a short, uncomfortable silence, as Lawliet evaluated his words intently. _

_The boy's shoulders loosened, however he retained his suspicious gaze. "You are not a doctor, are you?" he stated, staring at Wammy with a strange intensity. "I had initially hypothesized that you were yet another quack that those foolish physicians had hired to evaluate my mental state," he stated in monotone. "But now, I am forced to revise my initial opinion of you." Lawliet tilted his head to the side in a strangely birdlike manner. "Based on your attire and command over language, I content that you are an aristocrat of sorts; most likely one of benefactors of this institution. Which is why they've allowed you inside to talk to me…it isn't procedural after all." _

_Wammy's jaw dropped in surprise. "You're quite correct," he said, a slight admiring tone in his voice. The boy was incredibly intelligent. "I've been the sole benefactor of the Westbrooke institution since its founding. _

"_Indeed." The boy paused; dark eyes wide with childish awe. "You must be ancient."_

_Wammy laughed heartily, amused at the boy's words. "No, not really," he stated. "I'm only in my early forties." Though…to be honest, with his already graying hair, bushy mustache, spectacles, he probably looked much older than he really was. "Trust me, Lawliet. I have a good many years left ahead of me before I hit the bucket." _

_The boy blinked, before nodding seriously. "I concur." _

"_Why, thank you." _

_Lawliet's face fell into a puzzled frown before he leaned back, ever so slightly that he was all but sitting on the heels of his feet. "Earlier, you stated that you wished to discuss something with me?" _

"_Yes…," Wammy cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. "You're probably well aware, Lawliet, that you're the only minor within Westbrooke," he said uncomfortably. "And though it's not illegal for you to be detained here, I must admit that I personally find the situation to be incredibly inhumane." _

_The boy's gaze once never faltered._

"_You are incredibly intelligent, Lawliet," Wammy stated, his eyes serious. "You, of all people, don't deserve such a cruel fate; to be locked up here for the rest of your life, wasting away before you even have a chance to live." The older man bowed his head tiredly, feeling the burden on his shoulders grow heavier. "It is my fault, to a degree, that you've not been sent to an orphanage earlier. I should have paid a visit to this institution before now…"_

"…"

_After a moment of silence, Wammy finally shook himself out of his thoughts. "Thus, I have a proposition for you," he said in a hesitant tone. "One that I think you'll find acceptable, if not preferable to your present situation." _

_Lawliet's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" _

_Wammy's expression was tinted with uncertainty. But nonetheless, he powered on. "Would you like to live with me, Lawliet?" _

_The boy's jaw dropped. _

_--_

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Lawliet shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his heart pound wildly in his chest. Ebony black eyes darted from corner to corner, taking in the elegant leather seats and fancy lighting before flickering towards the window. _Coniferous pines. Shrubs. _He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to hyperventilate.

_God. What was I thinking?!_

He must have been_ mad_ to even consider leaving the safe confines of the Institution to live with a perpetual stranger for the holidays. Lawliet shivered violently, when the limo hit a pothole. He'd have to acclimate himself to an entirely new environment. He'd need to…_trust_.

And frankly, he wasn't sure if he was even capable of trusting anymore.

Lawliet chewed his thumb, biting down hard enough to draw a sliver of blood. When he first met Quillsh Wammy, he'd been shocked into silence by what he saw in the other man's eyes. _Kindness._ He had never had such a look directed towards him before. It was always _pity, disgust, or a putrid hybrid of the two. _The man was…different from the rest of the masses.

And that frightened him.

Lawliet hated uncertainties. _Hated_ not knowing the exact probabilities of something happening. It made him feel weak. It made him feel like as if he was not in control. The boy flinched when the car came to an abrupt stop. His body trembled violently as the chauffer opened the door and beckoned…

"Sir, welcome to the Wammy House."

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**REVIEWS make my day, so please send me one! I'll endeavor to update sooner if I get enough. *hint hint*  
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	4. The Beginning: First Month

**Strips of Villainy **

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own HP.

**A/N: To answer your questions: **Yes, eventually Kira/Light will enter the scene. And I am fairly sure that Lawliet is his real name; L. Lawliet to be exact. However, in this fic, when his father disowns him and abandons him at an asylum, Lawliet relinquishes his last name. Thus, he will only be known as Lawliet from now forth. Enjoy!

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**A New Beginning**: The first month

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_The small child stared up at him unblinkingly, whilst his tiny hands fiddling with the edge of his frayed white shirt. "What should I refer to you as, sir?" the boy asked quietly, knowing without a doubt that the man's next words would determine the basis of their relationship for the next few years. _

_"Well," The older man paused thoughtfully, eyes twinkled, "… since I shall refer to you as Lawliet, you're welcome to call me by my given name until you're comfortable enough to refer to me in more familial terms." _

_Lawliet matched his stare. "Quillsh," he tested._

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**_Three Weeks Later_**

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Roger watched, partially hidden from behind a heavy drape, his master and charge sit, huddled on a comfortable black couch, browsing through a particularly thick bound book. He squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of the title…ah; there it is…_Days of War, Nights of Love. _He watched with mild curiosity, as the boy hesitantly shuffled over a couple of inches and pointed to an excerpt from the text.

_"What if everyone decided right and wrong for themselves, without any regard for conventional morality? With if everyone did whatever they wanted to, without the courage to face any consequences? What if everyone feared loveless, lifeless monotony more than they fear taking risks, more then they fear being hungry or cold or in danger? What if everyone set down their "responsibilities" and "common sense," and dared to pursue their wildest dreams, to set the stakes high and live each day as if it were their last?" _

Lawliet fell back on his haunches. "I would like to hear Quillsh-san's opinion about the text."

The elderly gentleman adjusted his spectacles and peered down at the book. After allowing himself a moment to digest the information, he answered, "Well, it is very well written. And I believe…that despite its dangerous implications, the text holds a kernel of truth," Wammy paused, choosing his words carefully. "I am of the opinion that laws and societal boundaries are necessary to maintain order; nonetheless, it…fascinates me, the whole individualistic approach to life." The old man smiled grimly, "I find it refreshing, the innocence and naivety that is necessary to concoct such a philosophy has grown very rare in the world. Such passion is…uplifting."

The boy smiled shyly. "I agree."

Wammy's eyes softened, feeling more determined than ever to break through Lawliet's cold exterior and discover the child that lay beneath. And he was making progress. For though most would not consider a shy smile from his charge to count much, but to him…it was a breakthrough.

"Is Quillsh-san a lawyer?" Lawliet asked curiously. "He is very well read compared to the general populace and has quite many philosophical texts in his home."

"Oh, goodness no," Wammy shook his head vehemently. "I don't believe I could ever develop the mindset of a lawyer." He smiled, abet a bit strained. "I fear I am too opinionated and stubborn to ever argue for a case I do not wholeheartedly approve of."

"How do you know if your opinion is right?"

Wammy blinked, mulling over the boy's words. "I don't," he admitted after a moment of consideration. "This is why I do not involve myself in the courts, despite my peerage..." The older man closed his eyes and adjusted his spectacles tiredly. "I personally find it disgraceful for a client, criminal or otherwise, to have a representative who refuses to act in their best interest. And I know, for a fact, that I can't adequately fight for something I don't believe in…thus, I removed myself from a potential position of abuse."

The boy's eyes were wide. "Quillsh-san is very admirable, though strangely wary of his talents," he argued, tilting his head from left to right. "I do not believe you would take advantage of others."

"Perhaps," Wammy shrugged, "But prevention is better than cure."

"I suppose."

The two sat in silence as Wammy casually flipped through the next couple of pages of the book; Lawliet climbed to the top of the couch and crouched, with the heel of his feet barely situated on the edge of the fabric, and hovered over an amused Wammy like an overbearing hawk.

Wammy cleared his throat. "I have been wondering for some time, Lawliet…but when in the world did you learn to read such difficult texts? I wasn't aware that the psychologists had enough time on their hands to educate you."

"They did not," Lawliet shot him a flat stare. "I taught myself."

"What?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably before admitting, rather mulishly, "During my incarceration…the doctors would often offer treats to patients in return for good behavior." Lawliet's gaze was harsh. "I forgoed toys and requested books instead."

"Oh…I see," Wammy said, trying to hide his shock.

Lawliet frowned heavily and turned away, bringing an abrupt halt to the topic. He didn't like discussing his time at the asylum…and he particularly resented Quillsh for prying on things that weren't any of his business.

"I want cake," Lawliet demanded abruptly, refusing to look at the elderly man. "Will you bring me some?"

Wammy's face fell at the blatant dismissal. "If you that's your wish, Lawliet," he said, keeping his tone even. "I'll be right back."

_I swear to you Lawliet, I'll get you to open up to me…somehow. _

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"Roger, you won't believe what happened," Wammy crowed jubilantly, his face purpling from both his bruises and joy, as his manservant diligently removed his riding coat and dirty breeches. "Lawliet is beginning to trust me!" he exclaimed, smiling down at his old friend.

The old beady eyed man tilted in head questioningly. "Oh? What did the young master do?"

"Do you recall how he once feared being within touching distance?" Wammy asked, continuing at Roger's curious nod. "Well, I believe he has overcome his phobia."

Eyebrows rose. "Indeed," Roger said, sounding impressed. "I had not believed it was possible to cure the young lad of such a peculiar affliction. Especially so soon…"

"Yes, I agree," Wammy stated, shakily washing his dirty hands in a porcelain bowl.

Roger coughed curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, when did this occur? More so,_ how_ did this happen?"

"Today," The elderly gentleman answered. "When Lawliet and I went riding in the woods…a particularly vile breed of a spider managed to find its way inside my jacket," he stated, coughing embarrassedly. "So, Lawliet picked up a fallen stick and proceeded to pound me with it until I was positive the spider was dead."

Roger looked torn between horror and disbelief.

"And as you can see, I was slightly…dazed after Lawliet saved me," Wammy continued, heedless of Roger's twitching eye. "So instead of leaving me to fend for myself in the wild, the dear boy kindly offered his shoulder and led me back here."

Roger shut his eyes and slowly counted to ten. "Sir, since you are indisposed at the moment…and hopefully won't remember this incident…" he said stiffly, rubbing at his temple as if hoping to avert a headache. "…I have to say that you are absolutely, barking mad."

_You consider having your charge beat you with a stick and then carry your broken remains back to the house as…bonding?!_

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Lawliet frowned, watching the older man limp over towards him. _'Perhaps I should not have tried to destroy that spider so fiercely,'_ his mind supplied sympathetically. _'A part of poor Quillsh-san appears to have perished alongside with the arachnid. How peculiar...'_

"Did you enjoy our ride yesterday, Lawliet?"

The boy looked up from picking his strawberry cheesecake. "Yes, it was a very interesting experience," he said brightly. "Perhaps we can go again today?"

"Maybe in a couple of weeks," Wammy said, looking distinctively ill yet pleased at the thought.

Lawliet tilted his head considering. "I will give Quillsh-san my strawberry, if he will take me horseback riding right now," he bargained, picking up the aforementioned fruit from his sugary confectionary and dangling it in front of the elderly man. "It even has a tint of icing on it," Lawliet added temptingly.

Wammy's face broke into an amused smile at Lawliet's childish attempt at blackmailing. "Alright," he said finally, knowing that he couldn't resist the boy's plead. "But…I must caution you, we'll need to go at a slower pace than we did yesterday." The thought of riding a horse made him feel queasy, not to mention he was still sore from the beating he took yesterday.

The boy tilted his head thoughtfully. "Okay."

_I wonder why that is?_

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**A/N: Haha sorry I made Watari sorta out of character. But I figured since he did not play that big of a role in Death Note, I'm allowed to extrapolate on what his behavior might be like given certain circumstances. Oh and Lawliet is so indifferent to the suffering of others since he has not had proper interaction with others in over two years; added to the fact that in the asylum, prisoners were beaten quite often...which, in my opinion, might have played a big part in Lawliet's psyche. I guess you can say that Lawliet 'released all his previously hidden anger' on the spider (since it was dangerous and deadly to humans) and poor Watari was just caught in the middle of it. Lawliet doesn't understand that he was the aggressor (however accidental). He just believes he was doing something for the greater good.  
**

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Anyways. Please **REVIEW!**

I'll try to update faster if I get enough, hint hint. lol


	5. Home

**Strips of Villany**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Death Note.

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**Chapter 5: Home**

_"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration" - Charles Dickens

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The dark-haired child tightly clutched Wammy's once wrinkle-free, black winter coat, whilst peering cautiously about with large solemn eyes. His face was as pale as the snow; glimmering with a sort of innocence that was unlike any found in our contemporary decaying society. "Quillsh-san," he murmured, keeping his voice low. "What are those _things_ near the statue?"

"Those are ravens," Wammy replied, following Lawliet's gaze. "They're native to England."

"Oh."

"You've never seen one before?"

"No," Lawliet shook his head, before adding shortly. "I wasn't allowed outside much." _After all, the asylum kept all of us, inmates, indoors at all times; and my father…didn't want others to know about my condition._ The boy frowned noticeably at the memory, feeling the sting of rejection.

Wammy's dark eyes were gentle and understanding. "If you wish, I can purchase books regarding the natural sciences for you." The elderly man smiled wanly, though with a touch of embarrassment. "I don't believe I have any of such books in my library back home."

"Thank you," The boy answered, a faint glimmer of a smile appearing on his face. "That would be most agreeable."

Wammy dipped his head and smiled.

The two of them walked about in companionable silence, with Lawliet hopping awkwardly to catch up with him. The young boy fell silent as they left the safe, relatively empty confines of the park and entered the very edge of the city. His fingers dug into Wammy's coat as he glared distrustfully at the people milling about the street.

"If you're tired, we can head back," the older man offered.

Lawliet tilted his head up and frowned. _From Quillsh-san's tone and body language, I suspect he feels I am unprepared for such a venture. _The young boy fixed the object of his thoughts with an unblinking stare. _And perhaps he is right. I do not trust these…people. I do not want to be here. _Feeling his body start trembling as his thoughts raced ahead, Lawliet forcefully straightened his back and shoved the feelings of panic away.

"I am," he managed to grit out. "I want to go home, Quillsh-san."

The older man nodded in understanding and held out his hand, with which Lawliet studied hesitantly for a couple of seconds before shyly grasping. Without further ado, the two of them doubled back and promptly retraced their steps through the park…

Wammy hid the ever growing smile on his face, knowing without a doubt, that Lawliet would be annoyed if he caught the involuntary action.

_Home._

It made him incredibly pleased to hear that his abode had finally been transformed from a "comfortable shelter with an inordinate amount of delightful confectionary," as Lawliet had once put it, to "home."

Wammy gave the boy's hand an extra squeeze.

_I'm glad. _

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Lawliet sat with his knees against his chest, staring impassively at the elderly man who had just entered the room and brought him a plate of strawberry cheesecake to cheer him up after the trip. He didn't understand. That man…Quillsh Wammy was an enigma. He didn't understand_ why_ the kind old gentleman had singled him out to dote upon; why_ him_ of all people? Out of all the orphaned children in England, Quillsh would have been much happier adopting an affectionate, unbroken child…

_Not a monster like me._

"You may sit if you wish," he offered, not looking up from the cake. Lawliet heard a moment of silence, before the elderly man gracefully positioned himself into the chair next to him. He dangled the fork between his fingers above the cake as he carefully planned his method of attack.

_I will uncover the truth. _

Wammy straightened his cuffs idly, studying the frowning boy with a hint of worry. He kept silent, nonetheless, feeling like as if he was sitting next to a particularly flighty creature, like a raven perhaps. He feared, for some strange reason, that if he pushed too hard, the boy would crumple before him and disappear.

"Quillsh-san is a stranger," Lawliet said quietly, picking idly at his cake. He paused, making interesting shapes with the icing, before looking up to meet the older man's surprised eyes. "I know nothing about you beyond your name and the fact that you are a gentleman and philanthropist."

"That's true," Wammy said troubled. _I completely forgot. _"What would you like to know, Lawliet-kun?" he said gently. "I'll answer your questions to the best of my abilities."

Lawliet nibbled daintily on the edge of the cake.

"Why doesn't Quillsh-san tell me what he believes is necessary first?" the boy suggested, his ebony black eyes bore into the older man. "I will ask questions if I am unsatisfied," he offered, taking another bite out of his cake.

"Very well," Wammy agreed without a hitch. "I must warn you though, Lawliet-kun," he said with a smile, "This will probably be a fairly long and boring story…given the fact that people as old as I am generally possess a fair amount of history under their belts."

The boy shrugged. _Boring is subjective. _

"I am currently nearing fifty," he said, leaning back easily against his chair. "I was born as the second son of Lord Wammy, Earl of Nottingham. My brother died of malaria when he was fourteen and my mother was devastated. She followed soon after." Wammy let out a melancholy sigh. "My father spoiled me rotten after that; I was all that he had left. But much to my eternal shame, I couldn't do anything right by him."

Lawliet tilted his head to the side curiously, shifting the plate forward to avoid getting blue icing on his white shirt. _How interesting. _

"I was raised an aristocrat; I was supposed to find a wife and beget a heir to carry the family name; just like the rest of the men in my family had done for generations," Wammy said lightly, looking down at the floor. "Unfortunately, I fell in love with a woman who was far below my station. She could not read nor write. She was a parlor maid."

The boy frowned._ What's wrong with a parlor maid?_

"My father was, predictably, furious when he discovered the truth," the elderly man continued. "He banished the girl and gave me the worst beating I've ever had." Wammy's wrinkly face frowned darkly at the memory. "And so I ran away." There was a pause. "I did many things that I've never been allowed to – drink, have friends, played vile games – I felt alive."

Lawliet's frown deepened in confusion. _Why would engaging in sinful behavior make Quillsh-san happy?_

"To make a long story short," Wammy said finally, "I eventually made a name for myself as an inventor; I earned enough money to get by; however, it wasn't until my father's death that I inherited all of_ this,_" he motioned to their opulent surroundings. "To be honest, I didn't know what to do with all the money so I decided to use it to benefit others. After all, it's not like as if I can use all of it in my lifetime," he finished with a laugh.

"I see."

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"Was that enough to satisfy your curiosity, Lawliet-kun?"

The boy chewed his thumb thoughtfully.

"No."

Wammy's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well, then ask away," he said, straightening his back in preparation for being shocked by the boy's unpredictable questions.

A ghost of a smile emerged on the child's face.

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**TBC! **

**Sorry for the short chapter! I promise the next one will be longer...so PLEASE review!! :)  
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